


Congratulations, You Survived Your Suicide!

by myoldlodger



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Suicide Attempt, but he's going to be okay :), he's fine folks, well not FINE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:42:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myoldlodger/pseuds/myoldlodger
Summary: Sometime during his time on the Enterprise, Reginald Barclay simply can see no other option but to take his own life. However, two events collide at once, and he is paid a visit from a certain omniscient entity right before the big moment.Title based on the song of the same name by Sycamore Smith.
Kudos: 21





	Congratulations, You Survived Your Suicide!

“There’s a phaser missing from the weapons locker, sir.” Ensign Smith stated plainly to his commanding officer, Worf, after the routine inventory and maintenance check of all the firearms located in the Enterprise-D’s well-stocked weapons storage. 

“Did someone authorize the removal of this phaser?” Worf returned gruffly, at first not very interested, as people check out and use phasers for all manners of away missions, one of which was currently occurring on a planet below, as well as all members of authorized security personnel having one on them at all times.

“No, sir. There are twenty-six phasers currently in use. This is number twenty-seven.”

And now Worf was on one-hundred-and-ten-percent alert. “Computer,” He began quickly, “Who was the last individual to remove a phaser from this storage unit?”

“More specification required.” The computer’s voice rings, not fast enough.

“Phaser Storage Unit Number Forty-five.”

And after a brief second, the computer responds, listing out probably the last name Worf would have expected to hear. “Lieutenant Reginald Barclay.”

The force in which Worf slams his comm badge made a rough noise, as he immediately barked out in a mixture of disappointment, anger, and thinly veiled concern, “Worf to Lieutenant Barclay - Explain yourself!” 

Bzzt. Worf to Lieutenant Barclay. Explain yourself.

The comm badge rang out to an empty corridor, small metal device left on the ground, previously ripped off of a yellow uniform, perhaps a little frayed thread of fabric still attached to the pin where it lay. 

The aforementioned Lieutenant Barclay had done a lot of thinking and preparation for the moments that lead to the forceful removal of his comm badge. However, anyone who had seen him that day would not have seen such a turn of events coming. 

By all means, the day had been like any other. In between shifts in engineering (where he even struck up a pleasant conversation with Geordi La Forge), he had actually gone out of his way to seem attentive today. That was approximately six hours ago. 

“You know Reg, you’re usually not this talkative.” Geordi mused with a smile. 

“I know.” He replied, “I guess it’s just a good day.”

Later, Deanna Troi noted the way he approached her was a pleasant surprise. He would smile, hardly stutter, actually connect. Just for a moment. Deanna knew that something was wrong, though, she could sense it in his eyes and aura. Approximately five hours prior to the current time, Reg Barclay remembered her touching his arm gently. “Reg,” She would say, “You know I know that there’s something wrong.” But she was the only one who noticed. 

Approximately four-and-a-half hours ago, he ordered water from Ten Forward and nothing else. Guinan’s eyes squinted suspiciously from behind the bar. “Something wrong?”

Reg looked around the bar with a lasting look. “No. Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” Guinan could always tell. “Usually you order milk.”

“Not today.”

Approximately three hours ago he buzzed the chime to enter Data’s quarters. Though, later, when Data noted the event in his personal log, he described the event as though Reg was saying more so interested in Spot than Data. He could have sworn he had overheard the word ‘Goodbye’, but at the time he thought it only to reference the current situation, not any kind of permanent arrangement. But humans don’t usually say ‘goodbye’ when they’re going to come back. They say ‘see you later.’

And two hours ago, approximately, he stole the phaser from the weapon’s locker. It was almost silly how easy it was to take it, how no one questioned why he was there or what he was doing until he was gone.

From the room, that is. Approximately ten minutes ago, through the current moment, Reg Barclay sat down in the center of his favorite Jefferies Tube, far away from where he’d left his comm badge, far away from his quarters and the Holodeck, where people would look for him first. Jefferies Tube 127 had, historically, been his favorite place to have a panic attack, and now it was going to be his last known location. There was some kind of poetry to that, he thought. 

Though, as he turned his phaser in his hand thoughtfully, all the thoughts and reasons swam in his head, and he, of course, briefly considered if this really was the only, final option. Of course, now it was - wasn’t it? Because if he survived the ordeal and was caught, they’d fire him, and then his life would be really over. Point of no return.

Everything was in order. He’d left a personal log detailing his thoughts and feelings, why he did it, why it wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular, and also left a detailed essay on tachyon beams and their possible effects on wormhole-like singularities, just in case anyone needed that information in the future or something. And urged whoever was reviewing his personal logs to please delete any Holodeck programs still logged under his name, just in case he forgot any.

“No going back. No going back.” He lifted the phaser gently, and turned it around. It only occurred to him now that he wasn’t exactly sure how to do this. Well, about anything would work, right? Phasers set to kill.

Meanwhile, Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s comm badge buzzed. On the other end was Worf.

“Captain, one of security’s phaser pistols has been stolen by Lieutenant Barclay. Permission to send a security team to search the ship? His whereabouts are currently unknown, as he has disposed of his comm badge.”

At the time Picard was in his quarters, and something in his artificial heart twitched at those words. “Yes- yes, of course, Mr. Worf. But, er, be careful-” 

“I assure you that I will be able to physically overpower him, sir.”

“Not of Lieutenant Barclay. It appears we have two situations on our hands.”

“Sir?”

“Q has paid us a visit.”

“Understood.”

Back to Jefferies Tube 127. “No going back.” The moment of truth, right. Finger on the trigger, he realized he had never fired a phaser before. 

Suddenly, a blinding white light filled the tube, and the phaser went off, tilted slightly up so it just so the beam grazed Barclay’s shoulder, singing his uniform and liberating a nice chunk of skin, and whizzing past him. In a split second, the white light disipated, and his head craned backwards to watch the beam strike the precise center of a man’s chest, and phase (for lack of a better word) right through him, as if he weren’t there at all.

The man wore a comfortable smirk, as he lounged against the wall of the tube, seemingly rather interested in the scene displayed in front of him. “Well, that’s no way to greet someone.”

Barclay must have jumped about a foot, scrambling backwards, hands both shakily gripped on the phaser, though by the sway of his arms it appeared as though he wouldn’t be able to shoot an elephant inside that Jefferies Tube. “Who are you!? Don’t get any closer! I’ll- I’ll shoot!” Even he wasn’t too sure of that.

“What good is that going to do?” The strange man asked. “Have you been paying attention at all? Your weapon’s fire just phased right through me. I’m almost certain that’s not why they call them ‘phasers.’ Now, just what were you planning on doing with that?”

With a shaky hand, he took the phaser and instead pointed it at his own temple, a threatening move, for sure.

The man just rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, and in an instant the phaser turned into blinding white light, and then appeared again the same way, into the strange man’s hand. Barclay was very startled by this was he glanced at his now empty palm. “Wh- who- what-”

“Oh, come on. Do you really not know?” The man asked as he inspected the phaser very closely, discreetly switching the setting from ‘kill’ to ‘stun’ as he did. “I… am Q.” With this, he struck a very prideful pose. puffing his chest out.

“...Q?” 

“Come on. Put humanity on trial, gave your commander superpowers, showed you the Borg.”

Barclay’s head swayed slowly from side to side. “I’ve… I’ve only just transferred here a couple of months ago.”

“Don’t remember a man in a grey uniform being struck by a bolt of white light in Ten Forward? Guinan stabbed me with a fork!”

“No… I don’t remember any of that.”

“You people.” With a roll of his eyes he let his arms rise at his sides, assuming a very god-like stance. “I… am Q.” And paused as he observed the still confused look on the lieutenants face, and after a bit of griping, continued. “I’m omniscient. A formless, ancient being beyond your tiny mortal scope of comprehension.”

“Am I dead? Are you God?” Now, Reg wasn’t exactly a religious man, but the thought did cross his mind that the phaser blast might not have been misplaced after all, though the wound sure felt real as he touched it with a wince, a fair bit of blood soaking into the yellow of his uniform, though by his assessment it was mostly superficial. 

“Why is it that whenever I approach one of you pesky mortals that’s the first question you ask? Are you God? The Prophets, maybe? I’m sick of them taking credit for the Continuum’s hard work.” A short pause. “No. I’m not God, and you’re not dead.”

There was a soft sigh of relief, and looking at his now blood-covered hand, he wondered why he felt relief. Wasn’t death the whole point of this? It seemed a little late for third thoughts.

“You came very close to it, though. Any higher a setting and your frail human body would have been torn apart atom-by-atom by this weapon. You do know there’s a maximum setting on this, right?”

“I wanted there to still be a body.”

“How selfish! You go through all the trouble of finding a part where nobody will find you, yet you want your body to stink up the air vents for days.”

“I left my location in my log. This was just so that nobody would come and stop me.”

“You didn’t account for there to be an omniscient entity on the ship, apparently.”

“I didn’t even know you existed until a second ago.” By now, his head hung low, and there was a long wave of shame washing over him, so he leaned a little bit inward, and pulled his knees to his chest. 

“So, why’d you do it?” Q observed the phaser again, before setting it on the ground in front of him, though by his assessment out of Barclay’s reach as they were both sitting in the Jefferies Tube.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, you know what I’m talking about. Why did you decide to target practice with a phaser set to ‘kill’?”

“Well…” At first, he considered spilling everything out right then and there, but he realized he didn’t hold an obligation to Q to tell him anything. Maybe the adrenaline was enough to boost his confidence. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But just so you know, you’ll find it’s very hard to keep secrets from a being who knows everything.”

“If you know everything, why would you ask? Why do you even care what happens to me? I’m just a human. Just- just one human. A Lieutenant. They have people to replace me. I’m expendable. See? I’m not worth… interference like this.”

“You must have a terribly inflated ego if you think I came here for you. I came here for Captain Pee-card. Not you.”

“Well, if you’re omniscient then you- you… you probably… also know that Captain ‘Pee-card’ is on the other side of the ship.” However, that was about the rest of his confidence, because when Q looked down on him annoyed after Reg made fun of how he said his name, Reg immediately lowered his head again.

“You caught me. As it happens I’m fascinated in this human tendency to fling themselves off of the nearest cliff like lemmings the second something goes the slightest bit awry. I came to see it for myself. What makes a human want to die? Clearly, not much. Pathetic, aren’t you? Sorry, sordid little creatures. How are you ever going to get anywhere if every one of you found a way to off yourselves, accidentally, on purpose? And you have got to be one of the worst specimens I’ve seen, Reginald Broccoli. Yes, I know your name. And I know why you did it too. I know everything you did.”

It was these harsh words that caused Barclay’s shoulders to shake, and he hung his head as he sniffled and bubbled with tears. Not much at first, but soon it was a cascade.

Q looked on, face contorting first into annoyance, and suddenly this feeling welled in the pit of his nonexistent stomach, somewhere towards the middle of his formless form, that felt warm and scratching, maybe anxious, maybe rotten. “Stop that.”

Just saying ‘stop that’ was clearly not enough to stop the waterfalls, so begrudgingly Q made a move. He picked up the phaser and slid it towards Barclay across the floor, as it skidded, it engulfed in a bright light, and transformed into a mewling, adorable black and white kitten. At first, it was a bit confused by the little twirl it did as it landed, but was immediately pressing its tiny paws to the knee of the currently sobbing man in front of it. 

Reg sniffled, looking down, sorrow turning into surprise and immediate adoration, at first hesitant, holding his hand out (which the cat pressed its head to his hand), and then picked up the cat. Then, suddenly, the tears weren’t so sad. 

“Would you look at that?” Q said, though his face was virtually unreadable. “Now if you do kill yourself, you’re going to orphan this feline child. How cruel.”

“You- you know-” Sniffle. “That doesn’t help very much. Saying things like that.”

“But I’m convincing, aren’t I?”

Reg gently scritched the kitten’s head, head already spinning with the logistics of keeping a cat in his quarters. He decided he would as Data for advice so the cat wouldn’t get lonely while he was away. “I suppose so.”

In response, Q merely smirked, though his gaze left a lot to the imagination. Was he happy? Proud of himself? Why did he care if this human lived or died? 

He didn’t. That’s what he kept telling himself.

“I thought… that it’d be better this way. To die. I thought that everyone would be happier if I just… I mean, I’ve already caused so much trouble, and there really isn’t anything for me out there besides the Enterprise. I already got kicked off my last assignment, and I only cause trouble here. I make people uncomfortable. I know… I know that’s a long time behind me, the holodeck programs. Counselor Troi says I’m getting better. But it doesn’t feel like that.”

“You know, when I was human, my first instinct was to off myself too. If I were you, I’d already be dead.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I know. I know everything. Time doesn’t flow in a linear movement for Q. That was the most annoying thing about being human. You’re forced to live your lives, start to finish, until you inevitably die. Some sooner, rather than later. But I know the whole story. Beginning, middle, and end, and all the pages contained in between.”

Reg thoughtfully looked the cat in the face, its large heterochromatic eyes staring back at him, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. “What… what’s your point?”

“I know where you’re going.”

“Me… or humanity as a whole?”

Q did not answer that question, merely scoffed. “Keep the cat, Reginald.” With a snap of his fingers, the three of them disappeared, and reappeared in Barclay’s personal quarters. Q stood there for a moment, observing the humble living space, and snapped his fingers again. This time, only he disappeared. 

Reg held the cat in his arms, dreading the confrontation with his peers about his behavior. The chime rung, the door opened, and there was a whole group of people, security, Deanna Troi looking very concerned, Worf with a phaser of his own. 

“Oh! He- hello there! You’re probably- probably wondering why I-”

Deanna sighed, moving forward and grabbing his arm. “Reg, why don’t we talk about this during a session, alright?”

“Deanna.” Worf said sternly. “He has stolen a phaser.”

Deanna shot him a glare, and Worf backed down. He tapped his comm badge, less forcefully this time. “Worf to Captain Picard. The situation has been neutralized. Lieutenant Barclay is… alive.”

“Call off the search party then, Lieutenant Worf. Make sure he is seen to by the counselor and a medical officer at sickbay.”

“Affirmative.”

Barclay was astonished that he wasn’t being yelled at right now. “You mean I’m not in trouble?” It then occurred to him that everyone’s response to this situation may have been slightly altered by Q - or at the very least, he might have put in a good word or two. Very kind for a man who cared so little about human life, wasn’t it?

After that, the security team dispersed, Deanna stroked the cat, planned a session or two, and moved to the corridor. “Come on, Reg, we’re getting that shoulder checked out right now.” And she began walking, occasionally looking behind to make sure he was following.

Before Reg Barclay could follow her to sickbay, he heard a voice, perhaps only meant for him. Q, unseen, but still watching.

“Oh, and Reginald… stay away from phasers.”


End file.
